I haven’t written in awhile. I lost my voice about a year ago. Or, at least it feels that long. I know I have written in that time, but definitely not the way I once did. The words are in my head, but my voice has simply up and left.

I lost my faith, it didn’t just waiver. It left with my voice. A sense of shame began to fill the gaps where God and the Word had once been nestled in. The freefall into a darkness overcame me, it’s still the cloak that covers me, brings me comfort in a place where there is no comfort to be had.

Sickness had me down and out a lot at the end of 2016 and I know it was my bodies way of protesting and saying I had fallen. I just didn’t want to believe it.

I grew pregnant in very late winter/early spring and miscarried, alone, several months later. I was too ashamed to tell anyone. Not my mom, not even the babies father. I wanted to hold onto that baby and keep it as mine. Only mine. A gift that God had given to just me. A gift that only I would love for the rest of my days.

I didn’t even tell my doctor until the fall. Perhaps because I was so adamant that I would keep this baby to myself forever, perhaps because I didn’t want the sympathy or the always unwanted and cold “you can always try again” type of comments.

Maybe I can try again, but I won’t. And, even if by some miracle that I do end up with someone else, and we do have a child, that child will never replace any of the babies I have lost. It will never erase the weeks I knew they were growing inside of me. The hopes and dreams I had for that specific child are forever gone. That baby will never be born, it will never inhale its first breath, or look into my eyes. It will never hear my voice outside of what they may have heard from inside of my womb, the muffled underwater sounds that budding ears were barely beginning to hear.

It felt like in those moments, months, of loneliness and being abandoned, that God up and abandoned me too. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I am. I no longer feel like a child of God. I feel a hollow space where feelings should be, where love should overflow, but I don’t feel God.

I woke up in the middle of the night, my mind tossing and turning worse than my body had been ten minutes ago.

Everything hit me at once: I’m not taking care of my family well enough. Good moms make their kids homemade meals, they don’t buy the boxed variety in the aisle’s of Trader Joe’s. They aldo don’t have picture ornaments hanging on their Christmas trees without the faces of their loves ones in them. Most of all they don’t forget birthday parties and gym day at school. Not only this, they don’t leave their houses complete wrecks; they tidy them. I’m the worst mom. I’ve got to do better. I can’t do better though, there is hardly any time for anything. My kids are bound to hate me one day.

Worry is like a spin cycle that never ends. It turns and turns and turns and turns until you are nauseous from its movement.

I should know; I sit in worry often. Do you?

The worst thing about worry is that all its circles get you nowhere. They clean nothing up, they spic and span no dish sitting in the sink and they fix no task before you.

So, why do I worry so much? You may be asking yourself the same question.

I’ve sat up countless nights circling this question. Kelly, why are you worrying? Why are you shredding a good night’s sleep with this stupid process? And, why can’t you stop thinking about what you are thinking about?

Nothing of value is ever accomplished in one’s mind in the middle of the night. I’ve determined this.

So, what is a peace-hungry woman supposed to do?

Finally, brothers and sister, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Phil 4:8

That’s what! Do you know how it looks for me in the middle of the night, when the sneaky enemy prowls around like a ravenous beast?

It looks like me saying the ABC’s of God’s goodness.

It goes like this:

A is for Always by my side, God will be.B is for Before me, God goes.C is for Carry me He will, when I am weak.D is for Delight in him, he will give me the desires of my heart.

Can I tell you all something I’ve never made it all the way through the alphabet.
Never. Ever. Ever.

I’ve always fallen asleep – in peace.

When you focus on the goodness of God, you find the good thing you were always after. When you trust him and his ways, he leads you to the best way. When you stop worrying that you are worrying, you make space to start praising his name.

It works. It works anywhere at any time in any place. Start singing. Start thanking. Start noticing creation as you drive on a traffic-filled street full of cars that will never let you arrive at your destination. Still, it works.

With this, tonight, rather than dozing off to the doozy that is my motherhood-style; I’ll doze off to the truth that God has good in store even in the center of all I cannot control.

About the book, Fear Fighting, Awakening the Courage to Overcome Your Fears:

Author and speaker, Kelly Balarie didn’t always fight fear – for a large part of her life, she was controlled by it. Yet, in her boo, Fear Fighting: Awakening the Courage to Overcome Your Fears, with God, Kelly charts a new course. Join Kelly, on the journey to go and grow with Christ’s bravery, the Spirit’s cousel and God’s unending love that squelches fear. This book reads like a love letter from God, while offering practical heart-calming prayers, anxiety-reducing tips, and courage-building decrees that will transform your day. www.FearFightingBook.com

About Kelly Balarie:

Kelly is both a Cheerleader of Faith and a Fighter of Fear. She leans on the power of God, rests on the shoulder of Christ, and discovers how to glow in the dark places of life. Get all Kelly’s blog posts by email or visit her on her blog, Purposeful Faith. You can also find a variety of resources for your fight against fear at www.FearFightingBook.com

We all live with fear. It hangs around, whispering in our ears, reminding us of all we can’t do or will never be. But that’s not the end of the story. We also have a God who draws close to say, Fear not. I am with you. This Spirit transforms us into fear fighters–women breaking free of trepidation to find bold dedication to God’s peace-, purpose- and joy-filled callings.

With remarkable compassion born from personal experience, Kelly Balarie shows women how to

My mom is back to work and she seems to be enjoying being out again, its nice to see her happy, though she is tired after nearly 5 months of waiting in pain before a surgery and then 6 weeks of recovery.

Since we all live together I had planned to clean the house for her this week, you know, the deep clean that no one really enjoys, but needs done regardless. Instead, we’ve been dealing with a child who has mono, another with a broken wrist and now I have been sick for the last 4 or 5 days.

{My Snuggle Chicken this week after a nap!}

I felt bad today when she couldn’t enjoy her day off because she had to clean the bathroom and sweep and mop and do it all carefully so cleaner smells wouldn’t choke me and cause a major coughing fit, she even washed my sheets that I changed the other day but didn’t have the energy to wash and dry. I almost cried when she told me today that my sheets needed folded and were in the dryer today.

I am definitely feeling blessed that even though I am sick and my lungs are literally itchy and my tonsils are swollen tight, that I have parents who are helping me and kids who are being fed while I am sleeping life away trying to heal up so I can enjoy life again soon!

{Cloudy Sunset}

I’ve been so blessed by Plexus products that have prevented me from getting REALLY sick in the past two years and that have also allowed for me to enjoy foods I love, make healthier choices and be free from worrying every flu season. So I really can’t complain too much about this bug considering. Pretty sure that my 4 trips to the hospital with kids and 3 trips to the clinic with the kids has been the germs that decided to attack.

Yet, we still enjoyed the times. Sitting in the hospital late into the night (and early morning) and having a friend bring coffee and donuts for me and the girl child as we waited to find out what was wrong. The jokes told about janitors pretending to be doctors -by our family doctor no less and getting to spend extra time with my kiddos as they mend.

Once you have teens the affection is hard to come by, but when they are injured or sick they tend to need their mama’s and while I wish neither were suffering I have to selfishly admit that I have enjoyed these past weeks of bonding in waiting rooms!!

I’ve reached this sort of burn out that I didn’t know I could get if I wasn’t post-partum. This exhaustion that cuts into the marrow of my bones and sucks me dry. A weekend, the kind where you relax and have happy family time isn’t in the foreseeable future, but when is it when you have teens?

Between teens wandering off and sports I am beginning to believe I live in the car. My autoimmune issues are in a constant flare-up, my allergies are beginning to feel like a disease and I have literally dangled by my hair from the seatbelt trying to escape the all-wheel drive jail cell.

I should be grateful for all that I have, and in actual fact, I am. I know that I have far more blessings than so many people in this world but that doesn’t change that I am falling asleep everywhere, not sleeping when I need to, and have a to-do list a mile long with worry on my mind and pain in my soul.

I actually look forward to a Monday now because that means the hectic weekend is over and that I can check off some of those boxes and try to detox my soul by sinking into the Word while allowing it to sink into me.

Don’t ever ask a stay at home mama what she does all day, because it is really exhausting, even if you are healthy.

I had no date this weekend, meaning, me and my boy didn’t go out together. He did go and play tennis with his uncle though. I have never seen two peas in a pod until I see those two. They read the same books, play the same games, fight over the broccoli, love the same sports and even wear their hair the same -shaved. The only real difference is about 16 years. It is nice that my little man gets to have man time with someone who pushes him and encourages him, even when they both come home starving and sweaty.

My back pain has been brutal this past month. I don’t know what’s going on with my body. Pain meds aren’t touching the pain much, just making me feel semi-stoned, and the feedback on that from family is “you are seriously annoying” and “can you please talk slower?” I have no desire to go to the doctor or wait on new tests or to try new meds… I feel so over all of this, throwing in the towel really feels like the best option right now. Just saying screw it to my body and continuing to try and be active on days I can be, take care of myself the way I have been and taking my supplements.

I started an old antidepressant again. I quit it back in February but with my emotions being so whacked and my pain being so crazy we decided to try it again, since it not only helps with the insanity but is also proven to be helpful with some types of pain. The parts that suck though is that it is another medication. I take sooo many pills every day not including my supplements or pain killers and it’s just frustrating. I want to be off of my meds so I can get pregnant and not worry about hurting a baby, or travel without worrying about refills, or worrying about whether or not I should be driving. I miss normalcy, though, I don’t think I have ever actually had normal. I have always had pain, starting when I was about 12 and I have struggled with my mental health since I was raped when I was 12, though, I never began medications until I had post partum depression and then really started meds when I was diagnosed with PTSD after escaping a severely insane relationship.

It is exhausting to go into yourself, into the darkened depths where you have everything chaotically stashed away in mounds that would give a librarian a heart attack. Much like the wall of post-it notes that only an author can decipher and turn into a grand story.

And yet here I am with the thunder booming in the background and the lightening flashing down on a blackened earth and my fingers are tapping away the thoughts that linger in my head and fear greets me in places I had forgot existed and I wonder who I really am?

Am I the child that hopped from rock to rock over snail infested ponds to find a place to sit and soak up the sun, the child who looked at metal barrels laying in the water 20 years ago and wondered why someone would do that to the earth?

Am I the adult who see’s a saltwater tank and grieves the loss of corals and anemones and secretly blames Finding Nemo for the tang’s and clown fish being stolen from our oceans just to beautify someone’s home?

Am I the girl who prays for the whales and the dolphins and has considered jumping ship just to land in the Antarctic whale sanctuary to protest, protect and fight for the whales whose song often falls on the ears of poachers?

Am I the 16-year-old girl who found herself pregnant and madly in love with a child growing within or am I the mother of that child whose smile is enough to light up any room and whose tears threaten to drown me because her pain are the nails through my hands and feet, the spear in my side. The pain a parent must bare in a twisted way so that their child can be fully alive?

Is that how my parents felt? Is that what Jesus told Himself as He felt the weight of His flesh tearing him apart, the sweat stinging into deepened wounds as the sins of the world separated the darkness and the light causing Him to cry out to God, “Father, why have You forsaken me?” before the sky turned angry and His flesh became Spirit?

And then there is my son, the child who nearly drowned drinking water because his laughter got the best of him and the water rushed into his lungs and sent those watching into a near panic and as he told the story he tells me “I wondered if Darin knew the Heimlich, when he pushed on my belly I knew he didn’t.” And I wonder why I worry more about the girl then I do my boy. Is that how it’s meant to be? That the boys can brave this broken world in a brotherly solidarity where the desire to protect outweighs their fear?

A world where your lungs fill with water and moments later you are playing football in the grass with a fire burning down in the background and your laughter and the sounds of your mother and your sister chatting are what fills your world because the moment you drowned you were also resurrected with a lesson learned?

Did my child really have me in stitches on the clouded, stormy ride home and did we almost hit that blur of a deer that for all I know could have been a golden shrub? Did he really just tell me that 50,000 of my cells die every day and that over the course of 7 years every cell in my body passes and has been replaced with one that is new and fresh? Did he just tell me that a sunburn hurts because the cells are protecting us from cancer and committing suicide so they don’t mutate?

How did you become so wise young children? Where did you learn these things and when? Why is it that I see so much of myself in your love for everything and then sometimes I look at you and don’t see me at all?

I am proud of you, both of you. Because you aren’t me and because you are pieces of me that I never allowed to develop and grow. You take big leaps and tiny steps and go where the wind blows, color outside of the lines and walk against the grain all at the same time. You are far more brave than I ever was or ever will be and I am so happy that you aren’t me. That you walk your own paths.

I love that you embrace conflict and hurt and pain because as the saying goes “no pain no gain” and I want you to gain. I want to see you suffer because that leads to growth. I want you to fear because that leads you to cling to the One who alleviates the need. I want you to love fully and be passionate and chase your calling, whatever it may be, whether it’s the Antarctic whale sanctuary where you take on the poachers of the world, or into a mission field learning a new culture and language and sharing your own journey with the world in the name of the One who saves you each and every day. Maybe your dream is to be a mom or a dad and never leave this small town and you want to plant your roots down deep and firm.

Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will be in the cheering section while simultaneously handing you to God, because while this may be your journey, He is the one who holds the map.

Born and raised in Kenora, Ontario Canada, Marisa was a teen mom who has overcome incredible circumstances in order to provide the best life she can for her small family. Avid reader, blogger and a God-loving Christian, are just a few of the titles Marisa holds. Reading the Word and learning about God and His plans for her life are her current mission.